


Embers

by RobinsGirlWonder



Series: Son of a Woodworker [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinsGirlWonder/pseuds/RobinsGirlWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of 2x03, Emma finds the reality of her situation setting in, and what that means for her life back in Storybrooke. More importantly, the man she thinks she's lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embers

In the darkness, she focuses on the stars peeking through the trees. They seem brighter tonight.

Emma sighs as she lies back against the cold, hard, unforgiving and unwelcoming ground. She misses the bed she's grown accustomed to at Mary Mar… her mo… Snow's apartment. She misses Henry. That kid is so stinkin' cute and he's wormed himself right into her heart to the point where not being near him is almost impossible to bear. And it's not the same as when he was stuck with Regina. Now? Now, Emma knows that the chances that the stars she's seeing and the stars anyone else might be seeing aren't even the same.

Stars…

Emma finds her mind wandering as she's suddenly brought back to a memory. She'd wished on a candle with a blue star. At the time, it was so trivial. She'd wished not to be alone. On a blue star.

_Didn't Geppetto do that for Pinocchio?_

Not Pinocchio.

August…

Emma feels her chest tighten and her throat close all at once. She sits up suddenly, blinking back sudden warmth in her eyes. She can't get his face out of her mind, the way those blue eyes of his weren't twinkling, how they clouded over until they were a vibrant blue of paint and lacquer –

A slight hiccuping sob threatens to escape her lips at the memory, and she clamps it down, taking a deep breath and getting up. She's been keeping it in so far. She needs to take a walk. The campfire is just embers now. Mulan, Aurora and Mary Margaret are sleeping, all's quiet. She knows she won't be missed, just for a few minutes.

Even though Emma doesn't know this terrain, she'd rather be walking through the woods than sitting there in the clearing, thinking about August. She can't help what comes to mind, though, especially as she finds herself in a patch of forest similar to the one he'd taken her to when he'd finally told her everything.

_And you didn't believe a damn word he said, you skeptical idiot._

The way he'd sounded like nothing hurt worse than realizing he'd left her… The way she'd just let all of her vitriol, rage, frustration and unresolved tension over the identity of her parents all come out in harsh, unforgiving words, the way she'd looked him in the eye and showed just how much she didn't believe him.

And the last thing she'd said to him was that she would fix him  _after_  she helped Henry. Like an afterthought. Her  _friend_ , someone who was clearly suffering and dying in front of her, and she couldn't even be  _bothered_  to give him hope.

_What's the point in believing if I can't do anything to save someone who needs me?_

Emma is no princess. She might've been born to, well… her parents… but, she doesn't feel like one. She certainly doesn't fit the mold of "unable to accomplish anything without a man or assistance".

But, she isn't entirely sure when she'd realized that she didn't necessarily need August, but he needed her. He had even  _told her_ that.

The blonde keeps walking, making her way to a tree with an unspeakably broad trunk, green moss coloring the bark in uneven patches.  _Everything_  seems to be a reminder, purposeful, stabbing her in the heart right in that place where August had settled in oh-so-quietly, without her knowing. The stranger, the man of mystery, the guy who "meant to bump into her", who took her to something as trivial as a well for that "drink" he owed her. At some point, he'd stopped being a stranger. He'd started to be someone who seemed to understand her better than she did.

And yet... when she knew the stakes, when she finally understood that the curse was real, she knew that she had to save Henry. And her first thought was to go to August to make  _him_  help  _her_. She knows she doesn't trust easily. Especially not men. And she trusts him enough to help with her  _son_. And look how she's repaid him.

She's lost him. Nothing she's said to him is what she imagined her last words to someone she cared about would be. She feels gutted as her fingers reach out to scrape against the bark, wondering if the tree he'd come from looked like this. The tree the wardrobe had come from.

The world is so different than she used to believe. The notion of August coming from a tree isn't stupid, it  _hurts_.

Emma's been good at hiding how she feels. Exceptional, in fact. She can tell when people are lying, and boy, she can bury how she feels. Whereas August... he runs. But, he doesn't lie. Not to her. She knows that now.

So why isn't it working this time? The longer she stands at the tree, the more difficult it is to bury those tears she wants to cry, to choke back those sobs. She'd let go for her mother just after burning the wardrobe, and even then, the words hurt just as much now as they did then

_I'm not used to people looking out for me!_

She knows she's only talking to her mother in that moment, she knows that. But the thoughts that follow in the darkness aren't her mother's voice.

_I was supposed to be there for you… and I wasn't._

_After **everything**  you've seen, why can't you just  **do**  it?!_

**_I,_ ** _the town, **everyone** needs you!_

_Then you're all **screwed**._

The sob escapes even though she's determined not to let it. She's alone, no one can hear her, maybe this is for the best.

The worst part is knowing the raw pain she's caused him. Every action, every denial, every time she's just shrugged off his attempts to get through her shell... every one of her actions has an entirely different light cast on them. Now she knows she has to live  _every day of her life_  with the guilt of it. The guilt of knowing she took his friendship for granted. He's dead. Worse, he's just stopped existing. He's a wooden puppet sitting in Granny's Inn.

_By the time I get back, he'll probably already be…_

She doesn't know how Geppetto will handle the loss of his boy. She doesn't know how  _she's_  handling the loss of a man who's become the closest friend she's had in almost a decade. She's been so busy trying to focus on getting back to Storybrooke, this is the first time she's let herself wonder what's going to be there when she gets back. Henry, her father, she knows those two will be fine. She, oddly enough, has faith in that. The one thing August had been trying to teach her.

So why does he have to die for her to see what's right in front of her? He needed her, and she failed.

The sobs are coming freely now, and Emma grips at the bark with one hand, as if it might somehow turn to the leather of his jacket, she might get to feel his hand on her shoulder. Something. Anything. So many words she's never said to him, so many possibilities shut down in the blink of an eye.

She's mourned over Graham. She knows that her infatuation and loss are nothing compared to what this is. It feels like she's lost something more than she even understands. That trust she holds so tightly to... he had it. Emma knows he means more than anyone in a long time.

Even as she sobs, she ignores that part of her mind that tells her there's a  _chance,_ a  _hope,_  and that like August says, she just needs  _faith_ that maybe, he isn't gone forever. She ignores the little voice in her head that reminds her that there  _is_  magic in Storybrooke. Isn't that how they got here?

But getting back... That wardrobe she's burnt is more than a portal home. It's the only thing in this land she knows August touched. And she's burnt it to ashes without even thinking. She's destroyed everything, and she knows it.

"Emma? What's wrong?"

Mary Margaret's voice makes the sobs in her chest clench and stop right there, and Emma shuts her mouth, trying to stave off the last of her fit. Clearing her throat, sniffing, she reaches up to wipe the tears away efficiently, if not necessarily gracefully.

"Um… You should go back to sleep." Emma is surprised at how in control her own voice sounds. She straightens, takes another breath and wipes her eyes once more before turning to face the woman she now calls her mother.

"Emma…" Her mother's voice is soft, sympathetic, all too easy to get through those walls Emma puts up. She reinforces them with a smile.

"Hey, I'm fine. I just… y'know, bad dreams, that kind of thing."

"About Henry?" Mary Mar – Snow… her mom's concern is genuine, and it's clear she wants to understand.

So Emma smiles and lies. "Yeah. But I'm sure he's fine."

Emma's superpower is that she can tell when someone is lying. She knows that. But, she's also begun to pick up on something else her mother is prone to do. Talk about someone else than who's actually mentioned. And that's what her mom does as she walks closer, hands in her lap as she comes to stand in front of her daughter. "You know what your father always said to me,  _every_  time we were separated? 'I will find you.'" Snow reaches out and touches Emma's hand, holding it tightly. "When the people we love are lost, we find them. It's in our family's nature. And if there is one thing I am sure of, Emma, it's that we'll find the ones who are lost." She glances up at her daughter, and Emma blinks stupidly as Snow brushes her finger against her cheek to pick up the last of the tears she's missed. "You will always find the ones you love, Emma. That's the strongest magic out there. You just have to believe."

Emma swallows and nods. She clears her throat and steps back. Love is  _very_  strong word. Not one she applies freely. "I should… go sleep." She mutters, a lame excuse, but she needs to get away again. Away from everything Snow is bringing to the surface. The weight that's coming off her shoulders.

"I'll keep watch. And stoke the embers before you sleep." Snow motions to a stick on the ground beside Emma with a smile. "You'd be surprised how long coals keep burning long after you think they've gone out."

As Emma turns back to the camp, she doesn't know what to think. By the time she's made it back to the fire, the tears have tried, she feels stable again.

The strongest magic out there. Love came in many ways. She refuses to even consider that word in regards to August. but, if there was hope for her parents, if the curse could be broken because of love, maybe there's enough magic for the one miracle. A miracle she doesn't want to give hope to. But maybe that's what August needs?

_Hope_.


End file.
